


Seafoam Blue

by oceandawn



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Childhood Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Letters, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:42:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27451441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceandawn/pseuds/oceandawn
Summary: Two people, two hearts, two dreams — life moves fast without pause.Callum and Ben know that.Ben plays with time as if he controls it. Callum worries that he's wasting it. They're two opposites that shouldn't attract, but somehow they keep coming back to each other, just how the tide retreats and returns in their home town by the sea.It's that very town that Callum's currently in, writing their life story, their beginning, middle — and whatever end this letter leads too.They just didn't know at the start that one of their dreams was the same — to find love and somehow have it stay.[or, normal people au]
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 14
Kudos: 65





	1. rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey :) this is my new au!
> 
> basically childhood friends/enemies to enemies to uni days to whatever comes after that without getting too into spoilers.
> 
> Some small explanation - callums letter is present day, but the actual fic itself is in the past but written as present. its one of those fics that unravels with each part of callum's letter to ben. The pov will also switch - callum to ben in that order, even tho it will always be callum's letter
> 
> might be some clues in there too
> 
> let me know what you think?

> _Dear Ben,_
> 
> _I know the first thing you'll say about this. Bit old fashioned writing a letter with a pen and paper, ain't it? Well, I have too much to say, too much that I'll probably forget half of it. Not in the bad way either._
> 
> _We always did things the odd way. I don't even know the right word for that. We spent more time trying to ignore how we felt rather than face it._
> 
> _You'll be miles from me when you read this. Might be the first thing you read when you get there, or you never see this and I'm writing and talking to myself. Or, perhaps this letter is on a shelf and you've been picking it up and putting it down, not being able to open it and not being able to throw it away._
> 
> _You know me, and I know you. It's always been that way, ever since the start of it all._

_\- - -_

_THE PAST_

Paintings are time capsules. Images remembered in a certain media and decorated, sometimes, in golden frames and hung up behind barriers so people can't possibly obscure history.

Callum's been to a few art galleries in his 18 years of life, mostly when he was younger with his creative mother. She'd hold his hand and never let go, pay for the audio tour with the headphones, and lead him to her favourites and explain in exquisite detail what she loves about them. 

He'd always see her with this smile, a joy to her voice Callum can't match to many other things. She's always happy talking about paintings, how they're of complete innocence focused on beauty.

Callum remembers something specific, a saying from his mother that's struck him as odd, possibly because he can't relate in any way or understand. She squeezed Callum's hand while looking at a particular painting some time ago now, when Callum was only 8, the colours all bold and beautiful, a life frozen in time from years and years ago.

And she turned to him and said; _"Art always captures something in time. Even if it's abstract, there's always a message, and sometimes it's a message only the artist can understand."_

In some way, Callum still tries to understand what his mother sees in these paintings to this day. Especially this one, the one he stares at every time he waits for his order in the warm, family run bakery.

It's framed in rusted silver, possibly years old, painted with oils depicting the gentle seafoam blue of the waves on the coastline just outside. That very image is the same view as where this bakery is built, this very spot, and Callum always looks at the view on his way here every morning before college to see if it's changed in any way since the painting.

To his own eyes, it hasn't. To his knowledge, it has. Maybe it's some sort of metaphor he'll only know the answer to in a few years. Maybe he'll never know.

"Callum," A voice says, followed by the rattle of paper. "Here you go."

Callum turns to see Kathy, a bright smile on her lips as always. It makes Callum smile, but not without feeling shy, dipping his head a little as he accepts the paper bag. The warmth of the muffin always makes the last stretch of the college walk that little bit easier.

"Thank you, Miss—"

 _"Kathy,"_ she corrects, clicking her tongue. "Come on, Callum. How many times! We all know each other here."

"I'm sorry. Just habit." Adjusting his backpack, Callum shuffles around in his pocket to pick out the necessary change. 

"Not at all," Kathy whispers a small _thank you_ as Callum hands over the change. "Your mother raised you well. Manners, being polite. Takes you to a lot of places."

Callum can agree with that. He'd rather be nice and leave a good impression rather than fear.

He's about to say his thanks again as he turns round, but Kathy speaks up again.

"Is your mother coming in today?" She asks, folding her arms across her chest, the echo of concern in her expression.

"Oh," Callum almost forgot. "She's not feeling too well. She'll be back in tomorrow and she said she'll do some extra hours to make up for it."

Kathy nods, leaning on the counter now, hands together. 

"She was rather quiet yesterday, I'm not surprised." She gives Callum a little wave as he makes his way to the door again. "You take care too, alright? I hope she feels better soon. Send her my love."

"I will!" Callum feels the knot in his chest loosen as the bell dings above him, sounding again but only muffled as the door comes to a close once more.

The smell of the ocean, the cold breeze that comes with it, the screeches and repetitive melody of a seagull overhead as it surveys the various commuters leaving bakeries and chip shops. It's been the background of his life since he can remember.

His mother — as far as he knows from what he's been told — moved here when he was six. She'd left his father, escaped to the sea, and now she works in the local bakery with Kathy. They didn't know each other before then, but Callum's happy she's found somewhere she wants to be, no matter how much he can't get on with the people at college, or how cold it is in winter, or the existential dread of growing up and not knowing half of who his family is.

Callum's father drove her away, and Callum, stuck here, hopes that the upcoming final end to his college year will give him that freedom to be his own man.

But he still is, in some way. As soon as he leaves through that door to their house, the noise of the outside world drowns out the headache.

He's not entirely alone, though. Or he doesn't like to think he's alone.

"Oh, come _on."_

Callum halts, halfway into reaching for the muffin when he turns to look down the path next to the bakery itself.

Kathy's son — Ben.

Same age, practically the same height. He sees him every day, considering he goes to the same college and lives upstairs above the bakery. Ben even sits two seats away from Callum in almost every class.

Yet, they don't speak. Their vocabulary stretches as far as a glare and a mocking excuse of a greeting.

Today, he's struggling with his bike, kicking the wheel arch as Callum looks on. Callum can see the scowl on his face, the irritated way in which he wrestles with the bike's padlock.

Callum doesn't know why he doesn't just walk. It's only a slow, ten minute walk away. 

It's that exact second guessing that gives Ben enough time to notice Callum's presence, turning to him with the same scowl he shared with an inanimate object moments ago.

"What?" Ben says, all sharp, all fangs. All bark.

Callum used to flinch. He doesn't anymore. Frankly, he's more upset by the fact that things have become this way. Distant.

"Do you need help?" Callum turns to face him a little more, even though he knows his time is already borrowed.

"No," replies Ben, turning back to the bike, wrestling it a little more until the padlock clicks free. "See? Just a bit of rust."

It's like time plays slowly, stretching out until the moment Callum realises that Ben is already at the end of the pathway, jumping onto the bike without as much as a glance to Callum before making his way to college.

The more it happens, the more it hurts. 

They only have a few months left, but it feels as if it's already over in some sense. Maybe it already is and Callum's stubborn, forgiving heart wants to hold on that bit longer until he can't no more.

His mother raised him well. Callum is kind, forgiving. Perhaps he's just not meant to be friends with _Ben Mitchell,_ rough and tough, most popular kid in class.

It's not the Ben he met. Not the one that smiled at him, not the Ben that adjusted his glasses and blinked straight after, saying his name with little confidence.

Callum bites into his muffin with a solemn expression. He doesn't have to keep going to the bakery every morning, he could take the quicker route to college. Him visiting the bakery doesn't have to be about Ben, the chance of turning up and hoping it's back to the way it was. It could even be about Kathy, his mother, or just for his sweet tooth. 

But he knows, deep down, that he just wants his friend back. Kathy and Callum's mother have no idea there's even a problem.

Well, there isn't one. Ben doesn't seem to remember. Perhaps it's just Callum keeping the lie alive, so much so that it'll be easier to tell the truth. 

He just has to get through these last few months, get into University, start again.

That sounds promising, at least.

\- - -

_NEXT DAY_

Today, his mother is back behind the counter when he arrives. She smiles at Callum, and it's a smile that makes him forget about the inevitable day of college. She always jokes about being earlier than Callum, but she always takes the earlier shift so that she can be home before Callum at the end of the day.

Kathy seems happy that she's back, too. They're laughing and joking as they give out orders for the other commuters present today, back to normal. It feels nice, makes Callum feel happy that his mother is.

When it's his turn to order, his mother hands a muffin already wrapped.

"Saved the last one for you," she says, smiling big as Callum laughs.

"Thank you, Mum," he hands over the change, giving a wave to Kathy as she serves another customer. He'll have plenty of days to chat about things. 

"Have a good day at collegel! Keep that hood up!" Callum's mother waves goodbye as Callum does, Callum already reaching for his umbrella again.

"I will! Bye Mum!" The dingle of the bell is rather muffled again, but that's due to the heavy pour of the rain, falling from the heavens as the sea crashes with more strength than yesterday.

He'll save his bakery treat for lunch instead. It won't be warm, but it'll be enough to make him _feel_ warm.

He doesn't expect to see Ben, though, having thought he'd skipped the day entirely because of the weather or beating it to the punch. Callum tries not to think about how that might be the only thing about him that's stayed the same.

Ben's there, leaning against the wall under the shelter of the striped canopy, shoulders hunched as he crosses his arms tight against his chest. He doesn't wear those black, framed glasses anymore, and there's no large hearing aid either, having been replaced by a somewhat invisible one.

He looks miserable. Well, it _is_ a miserable day after all. 

Callum stands there, one hand in his pocket, the other hand holding his umbrella as the drum of the rain becomes louder.

Parting his lips to say something, Callum stops himself the moment Ben turns his attention towards him. There's nothing but silence after that, Ben looking at him as if he has no energy to say anything, but at the same time wanting to.

The rain carries on, the waves crashing in the distance once more.

Ben looks away again.

Callum is about to turn away and head to college, leaving Ben to sulk on his own, but he thinks better of it. He has to say something. He has to let Ben know that Callum's there for him even if he doesn't want him to be.

"The rain isn't gonna' stop if you frown at it."

Ben takes his time processing that, only looking to Callum again when he leaves enough room for the silence to become awkward.

"Oh? Funny man now, are we?" Ben scoffs.

Callum shrugs, "It's the only way you'll talk to me."

Ben doesn't have fuel to reply straight away. He shrugs it off, sighing, turning away to watch the distant horizon.

That's it? 

Callum knows he shouldn't keep pressing, but he does, knowing Kathy has probably forced him to go to college knowing it's his final year the same as Callum.

"Come on, then," Callum remains still as Ben doesn't seem to even acknowledge him. "Ben."

He turns to Callum again at his name.

"What?"

"I'll walk with you," says Callum, gesturing to his umbrella as he moves it up and down in a small motion. "Just like—"

"Nah. I'm alright, mate." Ben shrugs him off again, but this time, he shuffles his feet, as if one part of him wants to go but the other doesn't. "I'll just be late. Cover for me?"

Callum shouldn't.

"Sure," but he does, smiling even though he doesn't get one in reply. "Or — you could just turn up on time?"

Ben glances his way, grumbling something inaudible before pushing himself from the wall. He takes a stride over the puddle near the drain, bumping into Callum's side. Callum steadies him with a hand, quickly shoved away by Ben, and waits as Ben digs his hands into his own pockets.

He looks cold. Callum can see that he's shivering as he takes shelter from the brutal weather, the umbrella nowhere near big enough for both of them, huddling together as if they aren't mortal enemies.

"Where's your coat?" Asks Callum, and he regrets asking almost straight away, because Ben clicks his tongue and sighs as if the world is against him.

"Are we walking or not? Of course I'm gonna' be cold if we're standing here." Ben gives one, single cold glance to Callum before taking the first step, causing Callum to kick into gear.

Callum holds the umbrella between them, holding it a little lower than normal so the rain doesn't touch either of them. Their feet will be soaked but it's better than everything else.

Ben keeps his head down as they walk, relying on Callum for direction, helping him when he starts to veer right or left with a small tug of Ben's sleeve. It feels weird to be like this after almost a year, maybe even longer. The days blend for Callum more often than they used to, a repetitive cycle of thinking where it all went wrong.

Callum keeps quiet. He can hear Ben sniff every now and then, fiddling with his ear, deep breaths. He's nothing near the image he gives himself at college.

And it's when they're near the gates that Ben suddenly picks up, pulling his blazer over his head to shield himself from the rain as he runs from underneath Callum's umbrella.

He's left to watch after him, Ben slowing down as he reaches the gates and towards the stairs, his cheerful, equally popular group of mates cheering and slapping their hands against backs when he arrives.

It's a dire contrast to Callum, left outside in the rain, holding his umbrella with the will to stay dry and nothing else. 

"Cal?" A voice says, Callum becoming startled.

"Oh, Whitney," he smiles, turning to the small, red haired girl all cuddled up in her coat. "You're feeling better?"

"Yep! Thank _god_ I don't have to drink those awful cough drinks anymore. They taste vile but my Mum insists I have them." She smiles, walking alongside Callum once they're inside. "How's your Mum?"

She's probably the only friend Callum has at college, sitting together in art class and working together when they can. It's easier to ignore the snickering and bad behaviour of Ben and his crew when Whitney is showing him how to carefully draw and understand the shape of a human hand. It's probably why Callum's mother adores her so much.

"She came down with the same flu I think. Seems to be alright now, though. Back at work and everything."

"Good!" Whitney cheers, shaking off her coat as they approach the lockers. "I'll have to visit sometime this week. Got some new drawings to show her, and you can help me with my Science homework, yeah?"

"Sounds good to me. I'll text my Mum and she'll bring your favourites from the bakery."

Whitney sings as she opens the locker, "Yes! Okay okay— I gotta' dash and get to class early so I can ask some questions. See you at lunch?"

"Yeah, see you then!" 

Callum smiles as she skips to the hallway not far from them, her books in hand and held against her chest.

His eyes move somewhere else without knowing, away from Whitney.

Ben.

He's standing there in his group, looking at Callum over the shoulder of one of mates that has his back turned. Callum doesn't think it's real until Ben glances away, pretending to laugh at something, and Callum is left staring into his locker a minute later as the group walk past him.

Ben doesn't even acknowledge him, doesn't turn back when Callum does, watching Ben as he folds his arm around another guy's neck, joking about whatever they are.

He's so different. Not Ben.

He is, but it's not the Ben he knew last year and before, the Ben he called his friend.

 _People change —_ that's what his mother said, bringing up his doubts about friendships one day the other month. She had no idea that her son was actually talking about Ben, the one that pretends and smiles and acts like a different person, his best friend, when Kathy and Callum's mum is there to judge.

People change. He just didn't expect Ben to be one of them.


	2. future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank u for the love on the first chapter! If its not clear already, each chapter will start with a snippet of callum's letter from the 'present' and then moving back to the past.
> 
> tw / alcohol mention

> _ When we met, it wasn't some big moment. I moved there, and the first time I saw you was in your mother's bakery. You were arguing about your glasses because you broke them.  _
> 
> _ I remember you hated them. The guys bullied you for them, and even when we got close and I told you that they shouldn't be considered friends, you brushed me aside and said it was nothing. I could see it bothered you, the way you held yourself. _
> 
> _ I was there when I had to say goodbye to you for that last summer holiday. We were on rocky ground because of the whole glasses thing, but you still smiled at me before you left, wanting me to go with you. I didn't know why that was, why you left with fear in your eyes until you told me that night years ago, but I missed you. Missed having that friend. We had other summers, but I don't think I'll ever forget the first one, the one where you showed me every cool shop that stretched along the coastline. _
> 
> _ It felt like I was welcome there, that even though there were hundreds of people in that town there was at least one person who cared. That was you. _
> 
> _ So when you were gone before the start of our last college year, that was hard. _
> 
> _ Summer was good, despite that, but you weren't there and time seemed to stop. The waves were calm until the day you arrived back, and when I saw you, I knew something had changed. _
> 
> _ You were a shell of the guy I once knew. _

_ \- - - _

_ THE PAST _

Ben hates it. Hates how much he smiles.

It's not necessarily because he struggles to smile himself, but he misses those smiles around him, how they used to be  _ for  _ Ben. It's his own fault, so there's no use debating why.

Resting his head on his raised hand, he watches as two seats away on the left, Callum is looking down at his textbook without the usual enthusiasm. Ben won't take the blame, not for this.

He was too kind, too much fragile glass that he can easily crumble once they're due to leave college and venture on to the big, wide world.

Callum flinches as the teacher asks him a question, and he's left blinking like a deer in headlights. Ben has the heart to laugh, chuckling as Callum mumbles a random word as the answer. It's wrong, and Ben's mates all start to join in on the simmering laughter.

Ben feels himself caught, because seconds later Callum is looking over his shoulder, glaring at him with something borderline sympathetic. It's like a blow to Ben's chest, expression falling because Callum's eyes are on him and won't leave, even as the teacher catches on and scolds Ben and his crew for making the spotlight worse for Callum.

He swallows hard, looking down to his own textbook that's now three pages behind because he's spent so much time thinking about their exchange yesterday.

Callum didn't have to offer his umbrella, but he did, and without him, he wouldn't have made it to college, or turned up looking like a drowned rat.

_ Shit. _

No matter how much he tries to push Callum away, to make him hate Ben, there's no possible way that'll ever come true. He's this pure, helpful person that wants to be there for Ben even when Ben doesn't want him.

But that's a lie, too.

Ben does want him. Wants him to be there at his side, laughing at his jokes and exchanging pocket change so they can get that extra sprinkle flake ice cream after school. He misses it, the few years they had of total ignorance. Kids being kids. Ignoring the world and what's ahead, favouring going over to Callum's house to play the latest game title or going over to Ben's to borrow his extra bike and cruise through the seaside town.

They were a pair, a pair people knew. They were the friendship of movies and eccentric TV openings, perfect and too good to be true.

Something changed, though. Ben changed, and it ruined him, made him feel strange. Callum would probably sit with him and talk about it if he ever said why, but he can't risk the other option.

That he'd lose him.

He already is, but  _ hell,  _ he thought it'd be easier for Callum to hate him then walk away out of fear.

His eyes glance back to him once more, Callum with his back to Ben, turning over the page in his textbook. Maybe there's some fateful reason he starts thinking about stories and turning pages in life just because he's scared of not knowing his own life. Callum probably has something planned already, probably has his University application sent off and approved even though there's no way that's actually possible.

Ben just feels that way. Callum's always better at planning, better at solving issues before they've even arrived because he doesn't sit and wait for it like Ben does.

Think of it this way — if there's a storm predicted, Callum will head out with a coat even if the weather in this country is unpredictable at best, but Ben, he'll leave without one. 

_ I'll just miss it,  _ he'll say, and then end up coming home drenched and down with the flu a week later. Callum's spent days over their years of knowing each other looking after him, reminding him, looking after him and taking extra notes in class that he drops off at the bakery if Ben's off ill.

That hasn't happened in a while.

Not the illness part, but the general caring. Callum always looks fearful around Ben, hesitant, no glowing smile like before and the usual shoulder shrug he'd do because he's getting tall and unsure what to do with all that extra height.

In a way, Ben wants that too, the distance. It'll be easier to part ways then, because he knows friends at this age don't stay forever. At least, that's what his father told him.

_ Family is the only blood that will stick with you —  _ or some shit like that. He can't remember. Ben tries not to let that harrowing voice pin his lungs too often.

There's only one way to make sure though, that Ben's right and it's not some petty guilt that he shouldn't even have. Callum deserves better, regardless.

But why did they work so well? Why does he have to feel this way?

Why does Ben miss him?

\- - -

_ NEXT DAY _

It's not raining, at least. 

However, that means Ben doesn't have a proper excuse to wait for Callum like he did before, clinging on to some silly, remaining hope.

The waves are calm, crashing at the cliffs instead of the beach, kids running with buckets past the bakery doors to get the best place to build a sandcastle first. Ben used to be one of those kids.

Ben waits, adjusts his tie just at the time he knows Callum arrives at the bakery. He needs to avoid both his own mother as well as Rebecca, Callum's mother, knowing full well he'd make them converse about whatever they talk about.

He waits where he did the other day, under the shelter of the canopy, the warmth of the sun arching over his shoes as he waits for the second toll of the bell door.

And like clockwork, Callum's already looking his way as he comes to the edge of the bakery, and his footsteps falter ever so slightly until he comes to a complete stop.

Callum's holding his muffin with both hands, Ben flicking his gaze to the treat before turning his head away. 

_ Say something. I know I should speak first, but say something. Anything. _

Ben's internal prayer works as Callum bites his lip, turning from Ben and towards the pathway that leads to college. He turns back after a few seconds, and Ben's entire focus falls on him.

"It's, uh— it's not raining."

_ Of course you're thinking about the other day. _

"A-Grade student you are, aren't ya'?" Ben laughs a little, and pushes himself from the wall, taking his bike by the handles and moving to walk beside Callum.

But Callum's still stationary, and Ben has to look over his shoulder, "Flat tyre. Thought I'd wait for you for the entertainment."

Callum looks at his bike tyres. They're inflated.

"Don't you have a pump here?" He asks, deciding not to fault Ben's lie.

"Mate has it at school," Ben's always been good at lying, but not to Callum. Callum knows he doesn't just lend stuff out.

"Okay," is all Callum can say, walking beside Ben as they take the coastal route. Callum can always steer Ben to the quick route like the other day when it rained, but Ben made no move to take that turn himself.

"Sounds like you're trying to avoid walking with me," Ben jokes, looking at Callum for a mere second before turning to the waves to the right of them.

He'll miss them too. He'll probably miss everything about this little town.

"Well, we haven't. Not really."

"Huh?" Callum didn't really word that well, or he did and Ben's pushing Callum to say his own thoughts for him.

"We haven't done this, walking together to college. Not since you came back a few months ago." Callum tries and fails not to sound as distant as he does. It feels futile to even try and remind Ben of what they were.

"Yeah," admits Ben, gripping the handlebars a little tighter. "That's true."

Callum glances to him out of the corner of Ben's eye. He's desperately wanting Ben to continue, to say  _ why. _

Ben won't give him that.

"I wanted to ask you something. That's why I'm here," Ben appreciates the loud seagulls for a moment, allowing him space to think without silence. "Thought it'd be better to ask you out here instead of at school."

"So you don't have to acknowledge that you know me to your mates?" Says Callum, casual, as if there's no other way.

Ben clicks his tongue, but he should've seen that coming. Hell, he laid the foundations for it.

"No," he says in reply, shaking his head. "What I need to ask they don't give a crap about. I know that if I— that if I talk to you, you'll be honest. You'll give good advice."

Callum's shaking his head now, too. Ben knows it's an awful excuse, an excuse that doesn't make the last few months any easier. He wasn't even there for Christmas like they do every year. It's April right now.

The silence after is like he's biting his tongue, and a short glance from Ben confirms it. He's clenching his jaw, wanting to say something.

"Out with it," Ben says, unaware he's forced himself to say it until Callum's blinking at him.

"What?"

"You wanna' say something about what I just said. So — say it."

_ I deserve to hear it. Deserve to hear how much I ruined us over something so silly. _

"Just — say what you wanted to, Ben. I'm not here to argue. I think we're past that."

He's right. Ben's aware of that, but it doesn't make any difference. Hearing what Callum's thinking would break them entirely, knowing he'd be the honest, hurtful truth. Ben doesn't even know why he's trying to do this to himself, probably to get it over and done with so he can push past the guilt and move on already.

Having him this close, so connected in his life yet so far apart, it's driving a deeper wedge in Ben's resolve.

"I wanted to ask about what you're doing after this." Well, that was easier to say than he thought. Maybe he's genuinely interested.

"University, hopefully. Exams are close so it's my make or break moment," Callum gives a short smile. "Gonna' move up north, live in halls, get through four years and then see what's there for me when I'm done."

Ben sighs, "Wow. You're organised for this."

"Makes me nervous if I don't know where I'm standing," Callum shrugs, adjusting his backpack. "I wasn't gonna' go. Don't really wanna' leave my Mum, think I'll get homesick but she's excited for me to go. Guess I'm gonna' do it for her and then find something while I'm there."

"You mean you don't want to go?" Ben keeps his eyes on him, even though steering his bike is difficult since he has to reach forward a bit more.

"No no, I do. It's just a big, scary step, ain't it? It's like the start of your life in a way."

"I wouldn't say so," Ben replies, sniffing. "Expensive. Seems exhausting. Probably the only thing I'd go for is the booze and parties — the student life all those movies bang on about."

Callum chuckles, tucking his muffin inside his coat pocket. He'll eat it later. Ben smiles a little, a gentle curve of his lips knowing that Callum probably wants to talk to him more than he's letting on.

"That would be you all over, yeah."

"Oi — what you tryna' say?" Ben elbows him, causing Callum to rub where he did so. He didn't do it hard, more like a thud.

"Hey! I didn't mean it in a bad way. I meant when we used to go down— like— to the beach—" Callum pauses, feeling wounded all of a sudden. It's not so easy to speak about their years as genuine best friends when it's as if he doesn't exist to Ben now.

But, he  _ is  _ talking to Callum, looking at him and waiting.

Callum might as well try.

"You always have this spring in your step and I think that'd shift into Uni life — always where the fun is." Callum gives him a beaming smile, and Ben has to look away, pretending to smile like he's right.

Well, he is.

"Can't say no to that," Ben laughs. "Big party? Lecture? I know which one I'd rather go to."

"I'd go to the lecture and get a text saying  _ make notes for me, at a big party.  _ Right?" Callum laughs now, and Ben realises that he's laughing again too.

"Alright, alright. Yeah, that would be me." Admits Ben.

"Are you going?" Callum has this smile now, permanent from his laugh, a comfortable one, as if he's excited for the possibility of Ben going to University and whatever that might entail for them.

"No. I'm not." 

The smile falls from Callum's face. Ben didn't want to make that happen, but he didn't want to lie, either.

"Oh," says Callum, turning back to the pathway. College isn't too far now, and that means not far until the inevitable split.

"I don't really have anything I want to do," is not exactly a lie he wants to use, "If I go, I'll probably do business. My Dad would want that." Tapping his thumbs on the handles, he turns his focus to Callum again. "Anyway, isn't the city a bit much for a seaside boy like you? I know I'm the same but my Dad lives in the city so when I stop there it's something I've got used to."

"That's why I want to live in halls. It'd be easier to find people, you know, being forced to live together for so many years?"

"That's true," Ben can agree with that, at least. "Be funny if we end up in the same halls — if I ever go, that is."

"Why?" Callum asks, short and sweet. He looks slightly hurt by that statement.

"We had some good times. I guess that'd continue into halls, right? You'd get pissed at me for not doing the washing up, or something."

"Yeah," Callum's quiet as he says it, looking ahead, trying his best not to look back at Ben and hope he takes back what he's just said. He's talking in the past tense about them, and that the future is only something  _ funny  _ and that —  _ hurts. _

Ben is about to say something else, but Callum beats him to the punch. 

"Oh. I gotta' go," Callum says, checking his watch way too quick for anyone to see the time. "I'm meeting someone before first period."

Ben's reaching out for him, only just missing his coat with the pinch of his fingers. This whole letting go thing isn't looking so great.

"Wait, Callum. I didn't mean to say it like that."

"It's alright. I know. See you some other time — if you want." He gives a sharp smile, a small smile that can't really be classed as one, and then walks ahead, leaving Ben to stop in his tracks.

He looks on as Callum walks through the gates and towards the stairs. Even as Ben's mates roll up beside him, it's difficult to look away.

He didn't even get to ask Callum what he'd be doing at University, what he'd study. He also never told Callum what  _ he  _ wants to do, what he's been wanting to do for as long as Ben can remember. It's not what his father would want, but he has no doubt that if he told Callum, he'd smile at Ben and say something kind like  _ do what makes you happy. _

The chance is gone, for now at least.

"Ay, what's up with you?" One of the lads, laughing slightly, knocks Ben from his daydream. 

Not really a daydream, though. More like a possible future he's too scared to admit that he wants.

"Nothing," Ben replies, easily slipping the persona back onto his shoulders like a coat. "What bore we got first?"

"Literature," another says, and Ben celebrates without showing it. Callum sits in front of him in that class.

A second chance, maybe. They have months until University actually starts, but Ben is confident that time will fall into his hands if he plays this right.

Maybe he's not ready to let Callum go after all if he's fighting this much to talk to him again, and it was working so well before, keeping his distance when he arrived back in town at the start of the last college year. It was helping Ben forget, to try and move on from the way he felt, but it's like a boomerang flying slowly through the air.

It's coming back. He hoped it wouldn't. It'll change them in ways Ben is too scared to try.

But then again, it could be Ben trying to prove himself right, that Callum will hate him eventually, that the good times were just one in a million.

"Hey," Ben says, nudging his friend. "You got a spare notepad? Left mine at home."

"Are you mad? No. I barely remember them for myself." 

Useless. Perhaps Callum is right about his choice in friends. It's not like they make him feel any better as a person, or cared for. 

He could always text Callum, but something about wanting to exchange hidden notes in class feels like the old them.

Perhaps he really isn't ready to let go of Callum just yet. Or, he's afraid of saying bye to the only friend that's ever felt like one.


End file.
